


Make a Scene

by pikasafire



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-21 00:06:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/893493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pikasafire/pseuds/pikasafire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Scotty's shit at communicating, Claude's not much better and Danny should be paid for his relationship counselling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make a Scene

**Author's Note:**

> Another quick fill for Hapakitsune's "Grinding it Out in the Corner" rare-pairs:
> 
> This prompt: Scott Hartnell/Your Choice "I've got a way of making everything a confrontation"
> 
> Turned out a little sappier than intended. Obviously, I am happily pretending that the Flyers never bought out Danny's contract. (Shhh, I enjoy the denial.)

It's not a traditional getting together story, but Scotty's pretty sure that there was no way any romance between hockey players would consist of anything _but_ shouting and shoving.

It's a stupid beginning; they're out in Chicago, commiserating a loss, drunk and miserable. Claude's drunk enough that Scotty's supporting most of his weight as they weave their way back to the hotel.

"Scotty," Claude says, stopping suddenly.

"What?" Scotty sighs, "I swear, if you puke on my shoes, I'm taking yours and you can go barefoot."

Claude just turns to him, leaning over and kissing him clumsily.

"What the fuck, Giroux?" Scotty demands, pulling away, "Jesus fucking Christ." If Scotty was a bigger asshole, he'd drop Claude where he stands.

Claude's face falls. "S'nothing." He says, making an attempt to start walking again and stumbling over his own stupid feet.

Scotty's heart is racing, adrenaline coursing through his blood. "Fucking hell, G." He mutters, pulling Claude's arm more securely across his shoulders and starting to walk again. "The fuck is wrong with you?"

Claude doesn't say anything, letting Scotty lead him to the hotel, then his room, mostly unconscious before he even hits the pillow.

*

There's a knock at Scotty's hotel room door the next morning and he opens it, sighing when he sees Claude standing there. "What do you want?" He demands, turning his back and going back to packing. They've got bus call in ten minutes.

"To say sorry." Claude says uncertainly, looking awfully young. "I shouldn't have- y'know."

It makes him angry, "Don't." He says shortly, zipping his bag with more force than necessary.

Claude looks confused. "Don't apologise?" He pauses. "Because you're angry with me?"

"I'm not angry with you." It's not entirely a lie. He's angry, but it's not directed at Claude. It's directed at- well, Scotty's not entirely sure to be honest. The fact that Claude thinks he _can_? "Go away."

Claude looks like he's not sure if he should leave or not, hesitating in the doorway. "I meant it." He says instead, face bright red, jaw set stubbornly.

Scotty rolls his eyes. "Go pack your bags, Claude."

"No."

This is just annoying now. It's not Scotty's problem if Claude's hard up enough that he thinks his teammates are a good option. "What do you want?"

"I'm trying to to tell you that I like you." Claude shouts at him, red faced and furious.

"Well _don't_ ," Scotty shouts back, but hauls Claude in roughly by the collar and kisses him hard.

"I don't understand you." Claude says, when he pulls away.

Scotty pushes him, a little on the rough side of playful, "Yeah, well you're not exactly the brightest button in the box now, are you? Come on, we're going to miss bus call." But there's a little pleased smile on his mouth.

*

It's not the easiest relationship. Scotty says stupid shit, Claude can be an arrogant prick, but they kind of make it work for six months.

Kind of.

Things haven't been great recently. Claude's quiet and withdrawn, and Scotty's worry manifests as being an asshole to everyone.

Claude waits until they're home before he brings up the incident at practice. "You can't just say shit like that." Claude says, "He's a rookie, man, give him some time."

Scotty didn't mean to upset the new kid like that, but Claude's criticism has him automatically on the defensive; He knows he's an asshole and the fact that Claude knows it too makes Scotty wonder how long it's going to take Claude to get sick of it. "If the kid can't take a fucking joke." Scotty snaps, "Then that's not my problem. And it's definitely not yours."

Claude's silent for a moment. "Why does everything have to be a confrontation with you?" He says eventually. He sounds tired.

Scotty's terrified Claude's going to leave him. That this is what the last few difficult weeks have been leading to and he's going to lose something he wants. "Why do you have to be so stupid?" He counters, because he doesn't know what else to say and being mean is easy.

Claude just looks at him, sad and exhausted. "Whatever, Scotty." He shoves his hands in his pockets and turns his back. "You know what? I'm out."

What does that even mean? Scotty watches him go, his heart pounding. He's not leaving is he? He knows it was uncalled for, but he's not sure how to fix it, "Claude?"

Claude turns, his expression unreadable, shoulders hunched. "What?"

"I-" And Scotty knows he can fix this, the apology sticking on his tongue. But, what if he's wrong? What if it does nothing? He sits silently, paralysed and terrified.

Claude waits for a few seconds, and then sighs, picking up his backpack. Scotty hadn't even noticed Claude had packed it. "I'll catch you around, Scotty," He says. And then he's gone.

*

"Claude left." Scotty says.

Danny sighs down the phone line, "Where's he gone?"

Scotty shrugs, then realising Danny can't see, "I don't know." There's a long silence. If Scotty listens carefully, he can hear the domestic sounds of Danny's household, the boys shouting in the background. It makes him feel sick, contrasting with his silent, empty apartment. "Is he with you?"

"Scotty-" Danny sighs. "What happened?" He's not answering the question, Scotty knows that means yes.

"I'm an asshole."

Danny doesn't deny it. "Sometimes."

Scotty swallows down the lump in his throat, "I don't know how to _not_ be an asshole." He admits quietly. "And I don't think Claude's coming back."

"Did you apologise?"

Scotty hates that tone, the one that makes him squirm guiltily. "No."

"Then maybe that's a good place to start."

"I'm not very good at apologising." Scotty grumbles. It's easier than saying that he's too scared that Claude won't accept it.

Danny's voice is sharper this time, "I suggest you suck it the fuck up." He snaps, "Claude loves you and if you're going to let him go because you're too _proud_ to apologise, then you deserve what you get."

"I'm not too proud." Scotty mutters. "It's just-" he doesn't know how to articulate it, the thought that Danny might laugh at him, that _Claude_ might. "I just- I'm not very good at it."

"No one likes apologising, Scotty." Danny points out. "Claude will probably forgive you, but you have to talk to him."

It's a helpless frustration that wells up in his chest. Danny doesn't understand, it's not that _easy_. "Yeah, okay," he says instead, and hangs up.

*

The problem is that _not_ talking to Claude is much easier than talking to him. He doesn't want to have the awkward conversation about feelings. He's torn by the ache in his chest that wants Claude back in his life and the paralysing fear that, even if he tries to fix things, it's not going to work; easier to not try and be miserable. It's a shitty kind of limbo, and Scotty's not sure how to deal with it in the locker room, his jokes more cutting, barbs more pointed.

"You're being an asshole." Danny points out after a few days of this. "Like, more so than usual." The locker room is empty except for the two of them and Scotty wonders briefly if Danny planned this ambush.

"Fuck off." Scotty snaps.

Danny rolls his eyes. "Look, if you're trying to get Claude's attention, well done, mission accomplished. If you're trying to get him back, you're really fucking this up."

Scotty's tired and angry and he doesn't know how to fix this. "What the fuck do you know," Scotty says, "It's not like your marriage worked out any better." It's the wrong thing to say and Scotty knows it the second the words are out of his mouth, Danny's face immediately shuttering.

"Don't you even fucking dare." Danny hisses, "unless you want me to bring up _your_ ex-wife."

"Shit. I'm sorry, Danny." Scotty says. "Fuck." He drops his head in his hands.

Danny sits next to him. "Get your shit together." He says, "You just apologised to me, you can apologise to Claude." Danny nudges him with his shoulder. "C'mon, the boys are at Sylvie's. Let's go to yours, you can buy me dinner and we'll fix your fuck ups, yeah?"

Scotty's not entirely sure how they're going to manage that last one, but he nods anyway.

*

"Alright." Danny says, leaning back against the kitchen counter with a beer in his hand. "What the fuck is your problem?"

It's pressing on the back of his throat. "I don't know." He says, rubbing a hand over his face. He can't bring himself to look Danny in the eye, staring at the pattern of the marble countertop. "I don't know how to fix this."

"You haven't actually tried."

It's true. And that just makes it worse. He squeezes the words out, "What if he says no?"

Danny shrugs, "Then he says no." He gives Scotty a pitying look, "He's not going to say no, Scotty. He doesn't want to break up with you. He wants you to talk to him."

"I'm pretty shit at that." He says, voice a little hoarse.

"I'm noticing." Danny rolls his eyes, checks his watch. "Well, you've got about... four minutes to figure it out, and then Claude's going to be here and you're going to be a grown up and talk to him."

"What?"

Danny looks at him like he's particularly dense, "You were hardly going to get around to it if I didn't make you and, seriously, I don't get paid enough to play hockey _and_ be relationship counsellor for you two."

Scotty can think of about fifteen things he wants to say - none of them polite or nice - but there's the sound on a key in the lock, and the opening of the front door.

"That's my cue to leave," Danny says, grabbing his wallet and keys off the counter. "Catch you later, Scotty. Don't fuck it up." Danny pauses by Claude long enough to murmur something Scotty can't hear and then he's gone.

"Hey." Claude says, stopping awkwardly a few steps away.

"Hey." Scotty mumbles. _Don't be an asshole, don't be an asshole._

There's a huge pause stretching between them, interminable and painful, "You've been an asshole." Claude says eventually.

Scotty laughs, self deprecating. "Pretty sure I was born that way." He says, still not quite able to look at him. He takes a breath. "I'm sorry." His palms prickle with sweat.

Claude doesn't say anything for a long moment and Scotty's forced to look up, the way Claude's watching him. "Okay." He says eventually.

Scotty's confused. "Is that it?" Claude just stands there silently, and with each silent second, Scotty can feel frustration build. "What do you want me to say?"

"Why are you angry?" Claude asks. He looks confused.

"I don't know what you want me to do." Scotty says desperately, "Tell me what you want me to say."

Claude looks as frustrated as Scotty feels. "I want you to actually _talk_ to me, Scotty."

"You were the one who wasn't talking!"

Claude's getting riled up now, his face flushed with anger, "Because every time I tried to talk to you, you were an asshole!"

There's not really much Scotty can say to that. "I'm sorry," he says instead, and he reaches out, tugging Claude in. "I'm _sorry_."

Claude goes, wraps an arm around Scotty's neck. "There. Was that so hard?" He asks, gently teasing.

"Yes." Scotty mutters into Claude's hair. "It was horrible." Is easier to talk like this, without having to look at him, "I don't want you to leave me." He says quietly.

"So you're an asshole instead?" Claude points put, "How is that supposed to work?"

"I don't know." Scotty says truthfully. "I don't really know what I'm doing."

Claude pulls away enough to be able to look him in the eye. "Me neither," he admits. "We'll work it out, alright?"

It's a profound relief, a huge weight off his shoulders, "Yeah." He agrees, pressing a kiss to Claude's mouth, "We will."

*


End file.
